Caldan couldn't breathe.
It wasn't the paralysis. Not entirely. It was Dhaelon's mind inside his—filling every crack, flooding every corner, a tidal wave of consciousness pouring through the twin bond with a pressure that was almost gentle in its totality.
Get out. Get OUT of my head.
But there was nowhere to push. No wall to build. The bond between them was twenty-three years old, woven into the marrow of their shared existence, and Dhaelon had spent two decades in a cell learning its architecture while Caldan had spent two decades pretending it didn't exist.
He was outmatched. And he knew it.
